Papilio Ulysses
by candycanepower
Summary: This story revolves around a Cousland. She's the butterfly from Highever's opulent garden; a butterfly trapped within a glass case. Never again, shall that cage bound her. Romance, drama, sexual exploits, adventure, and slices of life. All wrapped in one.
1. Sweet Reverie

**CCP:** Oh hellooo I am here with… another fanfic. I'm not quite sure how I will pursue this, but I will try my best. My warden's name is Heather Cousland and is a noble warrior. Trying this perspective and I hope everything turns out right.

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Ch. 1 - Sweet Reverie

I dreamt of something wonderful. I saw a cheeky adolescent with curly chocolate brown hair that was adorned with shy white flowers. She was in her light blue evening gown I assumed her handmaid helped her put on. The dress was too long for her, but that didn't stop her from running. Laughing, the child with the red cheeks and blue eyes ran behind her father as her brother chased after her with a frog in his hands.

Their mother, who was standing nearby, laughed jovially as her facetious husband scorned, "You mustn't run around in the presence of guests!"

The brother stopped, breathing heavily with a broad smile as the father lifted up his daughter. She giggled as he kissed her on the cheek. I touched my cheek as I felt a sensation graze my skin.

I watched with a muted breath as, staid eyes watching as the colors and hues before me transformed into something else in an instant. There was a young lady with an innate beauty, her hair as brown as oak, dancing gaily with ostentatious men in an opulent and ornate ballroom. She stopped by the side to hear a man's florid confession after he kissed her hand. The young woman laughed but when she spoke, there were no words. I rubbed my hand.

There was that girl again, running in the courtyard to a rendezvous underneath a large birch tree to write and draw on her secret notepad. There she was again, brandishing a sword before her trainer. Once again, that same girl was dancing in her room in her undergarments as her mabari frenetically ran around her. The sound of laughter was like a chime, sweet and harmonic. It surfaced feelings and sensation so familiar- it was as if I had seen this before. Before I could figure it out, I heard a continuous sound that was similar to the sound of rocks being crushed. It had a rough edge and was grinding with crescendo. Then I asked myself, _Where am I?_

I wearily opened my eyes. It stung so much that I had to free my hands from the cloak that was warming my body. I rubbed it before I came to my senses. I was in a half empty wooden wagon with its brusque wheels gyrating over the rocky road as the horses trotted, steered by an unknown man. Still under the residue of the sleep spell, I temporarily suffered from a headache that pinched the nerves on my neck.

After I squeezed my eyes shut to redeem myself, I realized how swollen my eyes were. Thereafter, I remembered that I wept myself to sleep last night… I do not know the approximate time I fell asleep, but I do remember whimpering before I was led into the asylum of slumber. It was no wonder why I felt weak and tired that early morning, so much that I had to drag myself just to move a few inches forward. There I was upfront, where I saw the retreating vista, a tapering road, and a never-ending and fields of a quiet green, resplendent with little sleeping buds of color.

I sat there and stared with half-swollen eyes as I contemplated on whether this was reality's true form or a blunt ruse. I was dreaming… of me, or rather, of what I used to be. Nothing more than a lucid dream.

There I sat, with nothing but the clothes on my back and skin on my flesh. There were no flowers in my hair. I was not wearing an extravagant evening gown. In addition, I had not the slightest hint of a smile or any form of joy. I knew nothing of religion, prudence… or anything. I was not capable of coherent thought or reasoning.

All I could do was gaze at the distant and surreal scenery. Behind the mountains was the wake of dawn. The orange rays stretched over the clouds after its wake as the day was conceived.

I recoiled back into the darkness of the wagon after the sunlight burnt my eyes. My movements earned the driver's attention, who I then recalled to be Duncan, the man who… had saved me.

"You've been awake for some time now. Are you alright?" He stated calmly without even giving me a glance.

His voice was solid with equanimity, a tone reminiscent to my father. I used all of my strength to make a smile to that comparison, even though I knew the back of his head couldn't smile back. His inquiry hardly made me feel any better.

From my throat, I squeezed out a soft and dying voice, "Yes…"

He turned his head slightly, his dark gray eyes glancing at me peripherally. I froze in place until he looked away. I must have looked pitiful to him in rags with an ugly, sullen face as I was half sprawled on the wagon like a beggar.

I, a Cousland who basked in fortune and happiness, became a Cousland who basked in the glory of nothing itself. Optimistically, I told myself that I have the merit of surviving, which then made me bury my face on my knees.

"Stay strong, child. What happened had happened. Even the Maker cannot rewrite the past for what it is now."

There was sincerity in his voice and it felt it creep up my spine. He was the first person to give me any sort of condolence yet I did not feel like complying. Instead, I remained quiet and stared at the scenery again. I began to wonder what I had done wrong. Did I not pray enough? Was I an officious daughter?

Ridiculous. I prayed every morning, noon, and evening. I tried my best to always be amenable towards my parents; I did everything they wanted. To be the best daughter. To be the ideal wife. The best and perfect daughter they could have ever wanted.

Why, I didn't even complain when my mother asked me to dance with a noble twice my age! I did what I had to do. But why a retribution? _What have I done_, I asked myself. Killing my family must be no benignant reward. The Maker was being cruel to me.

In efforts to be optimistic, I came to cogitate about other things. Why, it has been my dream, ever since I was young, to go outside of the castle to see what things look like outside. I wanted to judge on whether it is as pretty as how the artists depict it and how the people are like how the nobles have discoursed about it. Frankly, I've _yearned_ to be whisked away by a man and run away while wearing a secretive cloak; an irony honed to be as sharp as a blade that made me bleed alive.

Yet, I had to admit that the nature was calming. The racket of the wheels eventually tuned out as I noticed the beauty of the passing trees and animals. To my great surprise, I saw deer, two does and one stag. Like magic, it made me smile as I watched these creatures gallop for the first time along the wagon.

I was free… from all of that duty. From all of that restriction. From all of those expectations and decisions not mine to make. With my arms resting on the door of the wagonbed, I watched with a smiling reverie. Freedom, was it?

Though, perhaps there was something I could not see, for the bows* granted me only a partial view. I widened my eyes as those deer turned the other way and retreated back, followed by a pack of wolves. Then I became staid as I saw one of the wolves feed on the carcass of a dead animal.

We passed more trees. Eventually, we were engulfed by a forest where I no longer had the view of the dread I had seen. Distantly, I stared at the blade that was trembling in front of me- the blade that licked blood for the first time last night-with malign, thirsting for revenge. I did not know what to do, for I was too tired and faint to feel such malice.

Instead, I curled up against the corner, hugged my knees, and then silently wept once again.

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*bows: The cover of the wagon.

**CCP:** Eloquence! Right so that's the end of this chapter. Of course, this is the morning after the massacre. Of course, anyone with the right state of mind would feel like shit in a situation like that. Hopefully I did not make the mood too superfluous. I really love Dragon Age and I do hope to get somewhere with this! So review if anything. Thankyas!


	2. Enchanted

**CCP:** I am going to butcher the in-game lines and sort of skew it up here. I don't want to take it in word-by-word. You guys know how the game went! I will not explain every inch of the game and dialogue in detail.

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**Ch. 2 - Enchanted**

My throat was sore by the time the last tear rolled down my cheek. I dolefully exhaled as I looked around the wagon for something to occupy my time. However, I was too hesitant to move from my position, especially since I was wrapped in a wool blanket that hindered most of my movements. I then raised a delicate brow once I noticed a bulky and stout figure lying on the innermost corner. Curious how I did not notice it earlier; then again, the state of my mind was simply pitiful and demeaning.

It too was wrapped in blankets, its body slightly expanding as it inhaled and shrinking as it exhaled. Still ill with grief and mindless melancholy, I crept closer and placed a gentle hand on it. It was warm and… feebly alive. My mind began to wander on what it possibly could be.

I let the blanket roll from my shoulders as I pressed my hand against the floor to support my constitution as I began to peel away the figure's blanket with my other hand. It wasn't a human; its body was huddled up in a shape of a ball.

As I was doing this, I halted immediately after touching something wet. I retracted my hand in horror as I saw blood painted on my palm. Regaining the most of my senses, I realized that there was a half-dried puddle of blood around this figure-and it was no ordinary figure, it was my dearest hound.

"Bran…?" I whimpered as I gently pet gray the coat of my childhood friend, carefully avoiding the bleeding abrasions I dared not gaze at. It seemed like he was tended before, for he had bandages wrapped around him already. Still, he seemed to be wallowing in pain…

Sadly, it seemed so… ironic how quiet he was; it almost didn't seem real. He is the hound that raided the kitchen last week, bit three servants on the leg, and ate two birds all in one day. The pain rendered Bran to make a sullen expression of mixed anguish and it nearly broke my heart to see him like this.

I made a smile that belied my melancholy as I wiped away the blood on the blanket before retreating back against the wall. I began to remember once more; Bran saved me last night. Had I been a bit keener, neither of us would have been in badly injured.

"Heather, my dear."

Though I was unresponsive, I turned my head at Duncan's direction, attentively waiting for what he wished to say. There was a sudden jolt but it rolled on to a smooth stop. I ruefully wondered what kind of road fate had paved from there. I had an unwelcoming feeling that it wouldn't be an auspicious journey.

"We are here now. Leave your hound and belongings behind- I will get him treated immediately. As for your belongings, I will give them to you at a later time. I do not wish to encumber you with burdens, especially when you are weak with hunger and thirst."

"Hunger… and…" I muttered as the realization squeezed by throat. "I… I have a lot of pain in my stomach as well."

"You have been asleep for days, Heather."

Before I could speak, Duncan left from his post, away from my view. I sat, completely appalled. I was asleep for… days? I still felt as if the tragedy had happened yesterday. Horrible… completely horrible. What have I been rendered to?

In a moment's time, Duncan reappeared at the back of the wagon and pulled down the doors, looking at me with his kind yet scornful eyes. Due to that, I became even more afraid and conscious around his presence as shown in the frantic movement to cover myself with my blanket. The Grey Warden smiled dryly as he outreached a hand.

"Don't worry child. Everything will be better from here on."

His words powdered with benign, but I wondered if it was latent with a hidden agenda. Still, I had no choice but to trust him, for I was no longer a noblewoman, but a victim subjected to bend to the wills of reality. I was in no position to choose, like how I did in my other life. No more silver platters. No more gilded rooms.

He gave me a sympathetic expression as I took his hand. I couldn't bear to look at his face any longer as I was pulled up to my feet and guided out of the wagon. The pity felt like a slap on the face and I was too emotionally sensitive to endure such things. Therefore I avoided his gaze momentarily.

I let go of his hand once I found the chance and timidly clenched on the hems of my blanket like a frightened and cold plebian child. My eyes began to wander as I studied this new frontier. My once unblemished skin was glazed with sweat, a trail of dry tears down my cheeks, and dried blood. I could feel it, the blood of the men whom I slaughtered… It burnt on my skin.

There were many trees on the periphery. There were little birds, chirping as they sang their whimsical cadence, completely impartial to my sorrows. I thought dryly to myself, 'As my world tumbles down, the rest of the world remains the same.' How else would it be if it wasn't the case…?

Once I turned around, I faced the grand splendor beyond words. My eyes dilated, my pessimism melted away in a moment's breath. It was no castle—I was very confident that I wasn't in Denerim- yet, even from afar, it had a regal mystique so similar to the portraits I have seen of the capitol. Stuck between being bewildered and awestruck, I stood from my place with a frozen expression.

There was a soft pat on my shoulder, where I then instinctively turned my head to greet that person. Since no one was there on that side, my eyes darted to the other side to see Duncan walking towards the bridge. Hurriedly, I followed closely behind as I stared intently at the path ahead. There was no mute moment between us. Duncan had much to say as he explained about the Blight and the reason of my being at Ostagar. I asked a few questions about the Blight and he merely answered enough to inform me the point.

"If it spreads to the North, Ferelden will fall..." He concluded before he met peace with silence.

I tensed my shoulders once Duncan stopped, forcing me to stop as well. Before I knew it, I met the gaze of a man in an armor of gold. He was also accompanied by two silver knights and I was sure they looked at me. Reluctantly, I stared at the ground to avoid their gaze from the nebula of their helmet.

"Ho there, Duncan!" The curiously familiar man expressed camaraderie through shaking Duncan's hand. I inched forward to look at the bearded man's face and saw a rather stunned expression.

"King Cailan! I didn't expect-"

_King_ Cailan? My eyes widened as my eyes fluttered in shock. I was in the presence of _the king_. I felt so ashamed that a blue blood like me was standing in front of _a king_ in a ragged blanket! I looked left-then I looked right! What was the point. I had no where to run and hide. Instead, I stood there bashfully, blatantly feeling unworthy.

"-A royal welcome?" King Cailan laughed affably, "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun."

"Not if I could help it your majesty." Duncan replied staidly with a small attempt of a smile.

"Glorious. Now, I do remember you went out to seek another Grey Warden Candidate. I suppose this is she?" To my dismay, he gave me a quick glance. I tensed up once more and avoided to look at his handsome eyes; I didn't want to see the expression on his face. I probably flushed slightly out of admiration as well as sheepishness.

Somehow, out of the dust of magic, I was able to gather the courage to speak. In addition, I looked at him straight in the eyes as well, however… only for a fleeting moment. "Ah… yes my lord, my name is Heather. It's… a pl-pleasure."

The king knitted his eyebrows as he looked at Duncan for answers, "She's in a dreadful state. I take it that the journey did not go so well."

With subtle hesitation in Duncan's voice, he said, "The Cousland family… was attacked by Arl Howe's men." I clenched my fists as I listened quietly. "I was there to fend the most of them off, however I could only save Heather. Unfortunately, the teyrn Bryce and his wife could not make it."

"Maker…" The king breathed before giving me a sympathetic gaze, "I am truly sorry for your lost. I knew of your father and he was a great man." He paused in between. I assumed he took another moment to examine my face and my appearance. I was draped in the brown blanket, from shoulders to toes. I truly wondered what he thought of me. Meekly, I stared at the ground once more.

"I will have the Arl condemned after the battle. Worry not, maiden."

That vigor in his voice gave me strength. It gave me hope that the maleficent beast will be condemned. I felt the blood tint my cheeks again, painting them to be an adolescent hue of the rosy red I once had. I beamed at him, my eyes becoming wet. My tears dared not roll from the ducts because I suppressed it with all the strength I had left. It was a happier moment. I didn't want to ruin it by crying again and I also… began to fancy sympathy from others. To gain that from the king was like a merit. What a fool I was.

"Thank you your highness. Thank you so much." I exhaled with deep compassion. With a new found strength and zeal, I straightened up, "I will do the best I can today to aid you during the battle."

The king shook with mirth that resonated into my ears like silver bells. "Of course! Excellent! You look lovelier with that smile on! I was afraid you'd stay that way the whole day. Ah, your brother is patrolling in the Korcari forest at this moment."

I nearly leaped with joy. My body was shaking and I longed to run to my brother to embrace him, the only blood Cousland blood left in this world. After the king saw my excitement, he gave me a dry smile, "Yet perhaps this isn't the good time since there is much to do. I advise that you should not seek him. Rest assured, the news will get to his ears without fail."

My smile was thwarted.

Ascending from his prior silence, Duncan spoke, "If you don't mind, your highness, she is in need of food. She has been asleep during the whole trip. Heather is going to need to be nourished before she will go through the ritual."

"Ah!" The king nodded blatantly as if it was so obvious, "Indeed, she looks pale and a little gaunt. Not quite fitting for a noble butterfly, really." He turned his head and addressed one of his soldiers, "Take her to Marianna to wash up," After receiving a 'yes your highness', his eyes then laid on me, "Surely that will be of help. That's the best I can do for now, warden. Yet I'm sorry to cut this short, I must return to my tent. More talk of strategies from Loghain, it seems. Pointless really, we've won three battles already and tomorrow shall be no different."

"I have confidence, your highness." I said with an earnest smile. I was peculiar how I became so optimistic in a blink. Cailan's grace was… impeccable.

He chuckled, "Good, I have another on my side. Now, carry on then." After Duncan bowed to him, the man in the gilded plate of armor turned around and left, leaving one of his men to escort me to… a woman named Marianna. Duncan bid me goodbye by informing me that he will send news about Bran and my equipment to the tent-wherever it was.

My eyes explored the surroundings as I followed the iron-clad soldier. It was truly a whole new world… I was in the mercy of Nature's nest. The buildings and architect must be nearly insignificant within the bevy of vegetation and trees by bird's eye. It was simply beautiful.

And there were people everywhere! It was frankly a new experience. For the first time, I saw a man frown very gravely. I did not know anyone could frown like that until then. There were also fellows with balding hair and those who smelled so rank, I could not stand beside them! Oh yes! There was one man who belched so loud, it frightened the birds!

At first, I was afraid, but I soon came to realize how this variety of people intrigued me. What I had seen greatly contradicted the 'all-smiles and peace' from Highever. Perhaps I was too sheltered for my own good.

We stopped in front of a very large white tent and then the knight gestured me to go in. With a simple brush of the back of my hand, I moved the fabric away to see a rather extravagant interior. There was a large mirror, an abundance of clothes, chairs, boots and shoes of all sort, and the room strangely smelled of roses. It looked almost like a dressing room-ah, and then it dawned upon me: a royal dressing room. Why didn't I figure that out earlier?

The maid whom I assumed to be Marianna turned around at my presence. She had dark but graying black hair tied in a bun, a large frame, and a little too much powder and make-up on her bewildered expression. Her cheeks were peppered with the happiest shade of pink and she had little beady eyes that seemed to be scrutinizing me. "Oh? Hello. Who might you be?"

"My name is Heather, miss." I spoke calmly, "I ah… King Cailin brought me here to… 'wash up', he said."

The woman let out a melodious, "Oh!" before turning around to pick up a pair of spectacles from the vanity table. After she adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her little nose, she blinked a few times before looking straight at me. Suddenly, she had a semblance of an old grandmother. "I see! I heard about that but I didn't know you'd come so soon. Come here, child, come here and sit. You look like you're about to fall apart. And _do_ remove that piece of rag from your body!"

I complied without a complaint and walked over to the stool in front of the mirror. I didn't think the woman would be the stern one, honestly. Before I hesitantly stared into the eyes of myself, I threw my blanket aside.

The person who stared back in the mirror… looked like a crone. She was pale, deathly pale, and had tousled brown curly hair. Her eyes were pink and the bags underneath her eyes were unappealingly dark. I scowled in disdain and so did she. I saw no beauty.

Marianna clicked her tongue as she lifted up a lock of my hair with her finger. "Dear girl… what have you been doing? Even a warrior must bathe. You have a beautifully molded face but you look like muck… all dirty like this. You have an odor about you as well…"

I flushed, looking embarrassed about it when I was outright offended. I've always had a hard time conveying how I feel through my facial expression and that moment was just another moment of proof. Annoyance sealed my lips tight, for I remembered that my father told me to never to retort or speak out of anger; it reduces eloquence to mere babble.

She sighed as she gave me a towel. "Child," she pointed at the flaps that were an entrance to another area of the tent, "The king's bath is on that side. You must clean yourself and don't come back until you smell fragrant. I've already filled the tub for the King but I suppose he won't be coming here for a while." Without another word, she left me to do her bidding. I grimaced at the mirror and consequently, that humbled me to do just as she wanted because it was the best for me as well.

I crept to the other room alone and stared at the large silver tub in front of me. Maker… They brought a silver tub, just for the king to bathe in? It would seem preposterous for a plebian but at least I understood the regal livelihood. I stripped of my white and conspicuously bloody and torn night gown and let it fall to my feet. I dipped my toes in the water first before completely submerging my bust down into the petal-adorned water.

"Maker's breath…" I crooned as I hugged my body, letting the heat of the water warm my bones. Then I sunk my head and remained underwater for a few seconds. I opened my eyes to see darkness. Complete and utter darkness… and the memories. Soon, I fell into the abyss of quandary.

Stupidly, I inhaled the water, only to rise and hack and cough like a fool. My hands buried my face, trying to rub the ugly away. I still couldn't believe I lost everything. All that I knew… all that I loved. Plucked away, like the scattered petals on the water of the bathtub. I stared listlessly at my reflection and she stared back with a confused expression that implied, 'who are you?' I laughed because I knew I had no identity, therefore I could not answer.

After nearly losing my mind, I stepped out, dried myself on a towel I was almost too afraid to use (it was the king's, after all). As I was putting on my undergarments, Marianna bellowed from the other room, "Once you're done, hurry in! Don't wear that hideous dress though." Simple enough. I didn't wish to be in that dress anyway.

Being the conservative woman I was, I returned to the other room with crossed arms and little steps. Marianna, who was organizing a few powders on the table, stole a moment to look at me and then nodded, "You have a pretty decent figure. It is a good thing you are so pale, otherwise you wouldn't be so great of a woman."

"I-" I mentally strangled myself to drown the words I intended to say. Instead, I gave her a weak smile when my I was mentally thrashing about. 'Cool down. Calm and steady,' I told myself almost ruefully.

"Come, take a seat." And so I did, back to the position in front of the mirror. There was that girl again, yet she looked better than before. I continued to stare at myself with mild interest until that damned woman began vigorously combed my hair. I yelped, but no avail, she kept on tormenting my head.

"Miss… it hurts." I muttered as I clutched the roots of my hair. I was beginning to be tired of her patronizing.

"Your hair is… indeed a mess. These are natural curls, yes?"

"… Yes."

"Ah… but straight hair is what men are looking for."

"_Please._" I began with an officious tone. I nearly regretted that because she stabbed me with such a sharp gaze.

"Very well… your hair is tamed now." She muttered with disdain as she walked to another table to pick up bottles of perfume and lipstick. "Now girl, you must tame your temper as well. Save it for the battlefield, perhaps, but not against an elder lady." With a haughty pretense, she sprawled the items on the table in front of me. "Don't you remember what your mum taught you? Or have you forgotten during the sweat of battle?"

Immediately, I glared at her but the magnitude of anger I portrayed was probably of a child's. "My parents," I began in a stern tone, "They are _dead_. Murdered because I couldn't save them! You may malign me but do not speak any ill-will of my parents. They are teyrns, mind you!" My fervid passion died down as my shoulders slouched, "I am-was a Cousland, and I did what must be done."

Marianna opened her mouth slightly, sympathy flowing from the pores on her forehead. "I'm… You're the daughter of…? I'm terribly… Ah, I'm truly sorry." I wallowed in a little pool of guilt as she quietly and gently turned my face to the side to paint my face.

The brush glided over my face. She applied a powder that made me skin look radiant and then began to paint my eyes afterwards. As if she opened up my heart, she dabbed the brush on a blue powder to pepper on my eyelids before darkening it and bolding black around my eyes. She hued my cheeks a romantic and shy pink and traced my lips with a timid red color. When I looked back at the mirror, I saw the face of a princess with silky curly brown hair and a fair complexion. I saw Heather Cousland.

I was so depressed earlier about my loss that I became obsessed with my beautified appearance in the mirror. I barely noticed Marianna leave her station and return with something blue and feathery.

"A… headband?" I asked as I turned around to examine the silver headband Marianna was holding. It was an ornate thing, with blue feathers cropped to look like a butterfly's wing. There was a jewel where the two ends of the feather intersected - a sapphire that gleamed from various angles. There was a poignant hush around this headband; I couldn't keep my eyes off of it. "It… looks familiar." I mumbled.

"Does it?" laughed Marianna, tenuously. "It… belonged to your mother. A gift your father gave her along with a wedding ring."

I gave her a stoic gawk, unsure on whether what she spoke of was part of a ruse or something else entirely. "My… mother's? Then how did you-"

"Ah…" She personally pulled another stool and sat near me in front of the mirror as she probed the headband. "Do you know who Serenity Burke is?"

"She sounds familiar." I answered honestly.

"She was my daughter. She worked as a maid to the Couslands. Such a bright girl. Grew up beautiful. But after she went to be a maid, her esteem lowered, or so it appeared… Serenity became jealous of the other maids and perhaps even jealous of you, my dear."

She exhaled then deeply, "And she stole this headband from your mother. She ran away and came home in Denerim in tears. To think that the silly girl held in those tears for three days just to sob in front of me. I knew she became mentally impaired at some point. She told me how that headband possessed some sort of surreal magical attributes that would protect you. Because of her… insanity and jealousy, she… provoked a female mercenary. After that… I had to come up with an eulogy."

Marianna pulled out a handkerchief from her bosom and dabbed her tears with it. She sniffed, "I'm… terribly sorry. So terribly sorry. I was cruel to you because-ah I apologize."

I hardly knew what to say but it was finally my turn to sympathize. Gently, I placed a hand on her shoulder, "No, please do not apologize."

The next five minutes flew by with me consoling her as well as sharing my piece of pain to her. Strange because I was still in my undergarments. However, it ended with Marianna's sudden movement to bestow the headband on my head. "This belongs to you." Then she chuckled heartily, "The Maker arranges fate in such curious ways."

I stared at the mirror once more. He… does arrange fate in strange ways. My finger brushed the surface of the sapphire. A warm glow bloomed from my bosom; I felt as if it was meant for me. My mother's spirit seemed to radiate from the delicate silver headband and I no longer felt alone. I knew that I will treasure it until the end of my life and so I smiled.

"Oh yes, Heather dear, before I forgot," She wiped the last tear with a finger before springing back to her feet, "Duncan left some armor for you and some news. Your mabari will be fine by nightfall. Also you must immediately meet a Grey Warden named Alistair-and I knew that lad. You will surely catch his eye."

She chuckled brazenly and I was left to choke on the tail with a stifled and forced laugh. Thereafter, she helped me with the armor and within a moment's time, I donned an iron-clad suit myself. Surprisingly, the armor had a feminine design, enough to hug the curves of my womanly stature and end above my knees.

"You look like a valkyrie." Marianna beamed as she brought the family shield to my arms. I held the shield with much pride as I clasped the handle of my sheathed sword. "A warrior from the heavens who slays her enemies with finesse and grace."

All I could say was, "Thank you." Before she told me to make haste and find that fellow named Alistair. I was facetiously shooed out by Marianna and we bid goodbye with a smile. With a new perspective and look, I was able to roam about the fortress with a little more confidence than before.

Many looked my way. I nodded and tried to be cordial, like how I used to. I was shallow enough to be cheered up by a makeover but I was at least walking around with high spirits. After much wandering around, I was able to find someone who knew where Alistair was.

The bearded Grey Warden laughed jovially, "He's a big orange-haired fellow. Y'won't miss him. You can hear his idiotic voice from a mile away."

"T-Thank you." I courteously mumbled as I shied away from him. The men still frightened me, no less.

In an open area, on some stone dial of some sort, I heard that aforementioned 'idiotic voice' from less than a mile away, actually. The man I assumed to be Alistair was quarreling with a man in a robe, a mage perhaps. Once I was within earshot to actually understand their quarrel, the mage left in an angry haste.

The heavily armored man with untamed tousled orange hair had his back facing me and muttered something that went along the lines of, "Oh one thing about the Blight is that it brings everyone together. _Wonderful_." The man began to take a few steps and he did not seem to be stopping until he bumped into me.

I nearly fell back and only regained my constitution once he turned around. Rude…

"Oh! Shoot, sorry I didn't see you… _there_?"

He stared at me. I stared at him. An equivalent exchange. Though should I have been wondering why he changed his tone into a quizzical one?

With a rather daft looking expression, I must add, he opened his mouth agape and then raised a brow. "You… are? Are you… you're not the new Grey Warden recruit, are you? The one Duncan went off…er… to find."

Warily, I answered tentatively, "Yes… this is she. Is there anything that is troubling you?"

"Oh! No it's just…" He laughed awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck. His cheeks were just swelling with a brush of pink. "I didn't think you're the type to be carrying a sword and all. Well Duncan travel to the crook and nanny of things but… Well, nor did I expect a female…"

"Females… can't be Grey Wardens?" I questioned, unintentionally sounding irked. "And what do you mean 'crook and nanny'? I was not born in the streets."

"No no no!" He waved his hands as he shook his head, "That is not what I meant, sorry. I just mean that well, you're er… very pretty for a warrior." He paused, simpering strangely before continuing, " Uh…we have female Grey Wardens-two actually. A dwarf and an elf before you. You're actually the first female human Grey Warden recruit."

"Is that so." Frankly I had no idea how to react to that confession. Yet I already knew I looked pretty. I neither wanted to look cocky nor did I want to appear as if I was oblivious to my good looks. I settled that with a stoic pretense with a simple nod as a gesture of thanks.

"Yeaah, not that I'm complaining anyway. But where are my manners?" The odd man began laughing a little too loudly with a hand on his belly as he continued, "My name is Alistair. At your service… for the time being. What's your name again?" And his goofy looking smile remained. I suppose my cold shoulder did not deter him from being happy. I liked that, actually.

"My name is Heather." I responded, trying to sound has graceful and eloquent to this man who clearly possessed none of those aspects. Frankly, I think I was too timid to act normally around him. If I knew him well, I'd treat him the way I treat Fergus. There was something striking about him and I didn't know what.

"Ah er well hello."

Then he looked awkward again. I gave breathed out a small chuckle as I softly said, "It is a pleasure to meet you."

He rubbed the back of his head and then nodded sprightly, "Yeah! Well that's good. Now that the introduction is all done, I think we should go to Duncan and start the ritual. I'll take you there and we'll all have a jolly good time!"

Triumphantly, he marched ahead of me. A bit amused, I followed him and asked in a form of a subtle quip, "Jolly? Please, you musn't lie to me."

"Weell. The 'jolly good time' part is up for interpretation I guess."

"Will it really jolly good to time to have darkspawn swoop down upon us?"

Alistair stopped in his tracks, turned around and then gave off a look of intense contemplation. "Hm… swooping is _bad_." Then he chuckled once more, "Off on our way, shall we?"

I wondered if Alistair would have acted the same way if I had not appeared to him with this... seemingly enchanting semblance. Perhaps men really are as shallow as how mother explained them to be. I surely hoped not, but it appeared to be so.

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**CCP:** The fastest update ever… I think. I really do think I have a lot of ideas for this fanfic. So please review and tell me your thoughts! Next chapter should have more Alistair and more OC!Wardens, Mahariel and a female dwarf who refuses to reveal her last name~ Thanks!


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